


"Banal nadas."

by valroyou (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: And Enemies?, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Eventual betrayal, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, I hate Solas and love him, Lies, Love/Hate, Merrill Makes Lots Of New Friends, Non-Canon Relationship, Secrets, Self-Denial, These two were meant to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/valroyou
Summary: "Nothing is inevitable."Merrill is recruited to join the Inquisition after Trevelyan makes an alliance with Hawke. Solas is less than joyful about her presence, and is convinced that he would happily be rid of her as soon as possible, but is that the truth? Or does Solas feel strangely protective of this naive, ridiculously clumsy elf?





	"Banal nadas."

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write my headcanon for this ship for soooo lonnggg...... honestly they were meant to be together. I will take that to the death, even though I have no regrets about how this whole story will end ; ) 
> 
> I plan to wrap this up in ten chapters or so! I'll include canon events from Inquisition and a little bit from Trespasser, but I haven't played that yet so forgive me ahead of time if that part becomes a mess. 
> 
> Please comment if you enjoyed this! I'd love to get some feedback.
> 
> Not beta'd, as all of my works. Let me know if there are any major mistakes c:

_"You should never trust a wolf in sheep's clothing."_

— Rachel E. Carter

 

"Thank you again, Inquisitor, you do not know how much this means to me. This will do soooo much for my people."

"Just call me Trevelyan, forget the fancy titles and all that," a deeper, familiar voice assured her. "I'm happy to help. The Inquisition is supposed to look after all the people of Thedas, even the Dalish."

Solas was pulled from the book he'd lost himself in at the sound of the footsteps and the voices. Looking up, he instantly felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. It took everything he had in him to contain the scowl he felt coming. Not at Inquisitor Trevelyan, no. The human, though he was... well, human, was a very humble, and understanding man. Solas had no qualms with him, and had even begun to see him as a friend.

At his side, however, a Dalish elf. He didn't know her personally, but her clothing and facial markings made it clear to him enough if the accent hadn't already. As they approached he tried to keep himself collected, he tried to keep an open mind, but after everything that had happened at Adamant, after all the Grey Wardens had done, this was the last thing he needed. He was on the very edge of bursting, and one ignorant word from this Dalish girl's mouth might be enough to make him break.

He shut his book quickly and straightened, nodding toward Trevelyan and folding his arms politely behind his back. "Inquisitor," he nodded respectfully. "Who is this? A guest of the Inquisition, I presume?" Hopefully, a visitor. Someone who would be gone by the time the sun went down for the night so that he might have his peace, and his sanity.

"Solas," Trevelyan gave a tight smile, a clear warning to Solas to watch his tone as well as his tongue- though meant in the nicest way possible, of course. "This is Merrill. Hawke got the Inquisition in contact with her after we met the Dalish Clan in the Exalted Plains. She's been helping elven refugees during the war and the Inquisition is providing them with care and shelter. Merrill has officially been appointed as the Dalish Representative and Negotiator for the Inquisition. If anyone can get this Dalish Clan on our side, it's her." Trevelyan clasped a hand on Merrill's shoulder, offering her a warm smile from behind his strawberry beard.

"She also mentioned that she had an interest in the Fade, and spirits. As payment for her assistance, our trainers are making efforts to turn her into a Rift Mage, kinda like you, huh?" He flashed a look to Solas again. Was that a wink? That man did not just dare to wink at him, did he?

"I thought that if anyone could show her around this place for me, it would be you," he concluded. "Since you have so much in common. I imagine you'd have a lot to talk about."

Solas was flabbergasted. Looking almost fearfully from Merrill to the Inquisitor, he felt his heart sink into his stomach. It was almost impossible to see in his gaze though, not unless you knew how to look for it. "Ah, I thank you for thinking of me, but I am not suited for such a task," he manages to say as smoothly as he possibly can. "This castle is yours, Inquisitor. Surely, you are more cut out for this than myself."

"I would, but Josephine needs my measurements for a fancy coat that she wants me to wear to Halamshiral," Trevelyan cooed. "You could use the fresh air anyways, Solas. You stay cooped up in this tower too much." As he departs, he even offers a little wave to the mage before ducking into the doorway. Solas wants to say something else, something that will convince him that this is a terrible idea but by then the archer is gone, door slamming shut behind him.

"It is so nice to meet you," Merrill stammers, bowing sheepishly in greeting. "I'm Merrill, but I guess you knew that already. I'm not very good at pleasantries."

"My name is Solas," he nods as she rights herself, looking as flustered as ever. "I took care of the Inquisitor while he was in comatose at the creation of The Breach. Now, I would refer to myself as an expert of the Fade. My knowledge has proved useful for the Inquisition so far, one simply hopes that those in power will remember those who helped." He turned towards the door that lead up the stairs to the library. "Come, I can show you the highlights, but there is much to see here in Skyhold. More than the Inquisition seems to be able to make use of."

He stops, however, when he does not hear footsteps behind him. The Dalish elf, Merrill, has wandered in the opposite direction, admiring the artwork on the tower walls.

"Did you... did you paint these?" she asks, eyes twinkling with wonder.

"I did," he sounds a bit too proud at that, but there was no use in fretting over it now. "A record, of a sort, of the feats of the Inquisition. I leave as much space as I can, you can never know when something else may happen that requires an addition to the mural."

"This one here," she points to the portion made in dedication to Adamant, the Warden's falling under the influence of Corypheus and the Champion of Kirkwall coming to the Inquisitor's aid. "Varric and Hawke told me what happened at Adamant, but your painting..." she sighs almost wistfully. "It makes it all so much more real."

"Ah, if you had been there, you would not say such," Solas notes. "No painting or mural could depict the thrill one experiences upon physically entering the Fade. It is... truly remarkable."

"Oh, I wish I could have been there. It's not the same only hearing stories."

Solas opens his mouth to say something else, but decides against it. "You wished to see the rest of Skyhold, yes?" he gestured toward the stairs.

"Oh! I do!" she turned abruptly away from the mural, nearly skipping after the elf as he made his way up to the library. As she did so, Solas could already tell that this was going to be a very long day.

At the end of the tour, Solas could have sworn he'd never met some one so talkative and curious as himself. She did not scold him for telling her stories that went against Dalish belief, instead, she welcomed them openly. Through every room, she had even more questions than she had in the room before. He wasn't bothered by this in the slightest. As a matter of fact, he enjoyed answering her questions. Though she was a bit over enthusiastic and scatter-brained. He wasn't about to put her in the clear, yet, however. She was still a Dalish elf, and so far not _much_ different from any of the others that he'd met.

They arrived back in the main hall, where Solas finally bid Merrill good day and departed to his tower- seeking the much needed alone time that he desired. Hopefully, this business with the Dalish would be over soon, and Merrill would return to the Free Marches. He dealt with enough chaos on the behalf of the other members of the Inquisition, the last thing he needed was one more.

Yet, as he sat down behind his desk with his books in his hands, his gaze drifted back up toward the mural of Adamant, paint newly dried, and he thought of the twinkle in Merrill's eyes when she had admired his work, her eagerness when she'd spoke of the Fade.  
Instantly, he pushed that into the back of his mind. The book, yes. He was supposed to finish translating this book.

\--

"Well, Daisy, what do you think of the big bad Inquisition?" the dwarf beckoned her to come and sit beside him, so she didn't hesitate. She couldn't say she wasn't a little tired after all that walking. She had never imagined this place would be so huge!

"You couldn't possibly fit this whole place into one of your books, Varric," she sighed, looking up at the towering walls and the royal blue curtains adorned from the ceiling, shining in bold color in the light from big window. "but it's so beautiful."

"I saw you walking around in the courtyard," he mused. "Did you make a friend?"

"I think, but oh... I'm not sure. You know I've never been good at making new friends, Varric. It's like I've moved into Kirkwall all over again."

"Well, atleast you're not lonely. You've got me, after all. I'm sure you'll be fine, Daisy."

Merrill couldn't help but smile at that. She'd missed Varric so much since Kirkwall, his letters could never truly do his charm any justice.

"What'd you think of Chuckles, anyways?" he prompted, resting his elbows on the table. "You're both into pretty weird shit. Seems like you two might get along."

"Solas? Oh, he's very interesting. He told me a few of his stories, I could have listened for the whole day if he'd let me."

"Not better than any of the stories I tell, I hope," he laughs.

"I do like your stories, Varric. They're so adventurous and romantic. His stories are... different, though. They aren't just stories. They're journeys, real things he got to witness in the Fade. I'd do anything to see things like that."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but dwarves don't have any connection to the Fade, Daisy. I couldn't tell you those kinds of stories if I wanted to."

"But you wrote a story for Aveline!" she protested. "Surely you could just make up something. I'd love to read more of your books while I'm here. It's been so long since I read a good book."

"I didn't write that story for her as much as I wrote it to annoy her," Varric sighed. "but I'll try something. Maybe Chuckles would help me out, keep it realistic, since he tells it so well."

"Oh! That'd be so lovely!" she jumps up and reaches across the table taking the dwarf in her arms and squeezing him as though he were a teddy bear. "I missed you so much, Varric. It's so good to see you again."

"Hey! Hey now," Varric laughs, gently pushing her off of him. After collecting himself, he holds out a roll of twine. "Here, I think you might need this back."

She smiles, nearly tearing at the corners of her eyes as she takes it in her hands; memories of her home in Kirkwall flooding back to her. "Thank you, Varric," she chokes. "You're so sweet."

"Why don't you head over to the Herald's Rest," he suggests, pulling some paper out from beneath a book and readying a quill. "There's some friendly people out there that I think you should meet. Think of it as the Hanged Man, it'll make you feel more at home."

"Oh, alright. If you say so." She huffs, looking from  
Varric, to the twine in her hands, to the door. "Can I tie one of the string to this chair?"

"Go ahead, Daisy. I'll make sure no one moves it."

It was nearly sunset now, but Merrill was glad she wasn't making her way through the courtyard in the dark. The yard was still lit by a red-violet light, making the scout's armor twinkle strawberry pink. She tried to ignore the strange looks she received as she passed with twine dragging at her tail, but this bit of yarn was comforting for her. She could almost pretend she was back in Kirkwall again, using the alleys as a shortcut to get back home even when Varric had begged her not to.

Upon entering the Herald's Rest, she could sense what Varric had been talking about. It was a bit smaller and a lot cleaner but still very similar to the Hanged Man. Just as many people getting drunk, and just as many gambling in some corner. If only Isabela were here as well, Merrill would have loved to see her face.

"Hey, you," a deep voice rumbled from somewhere beside her, pulling her out of her own head as she turned to face it. She came face to face with the burly grey chest of a Qunari, and she gave a little shriek- stumbling back and clutching her twine to her chest as if that would some how protect her.

Bull laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "You're... Merril, right? The Inquisitor told me you'd joined up, asked me to make you feel more at home."

"Oh, well that was very nice of him," she returns the smile, though she can't deny that her heart is still as frantic as a caged bird. "What is... what is your name?"

"Iron Bull, The Iron Bull," he says. "Got a mercenary band that joined up not too long ago. One of us is Dalish too, come on. Let me introduce you to 'em." He wraps a hand around the tiny elf's shoulders, guiding her toward the back of the tavern where the Chargers were residing, laughing and arm wrestling over a mug of ale. "You knew Varric back in Kirkwall, right? He's a good guy."

"Yes, and Hawke helped me leave my clan. If not for those two, I'm not sure what would've happened to me," she stammers, looking down at her hands. "I mean, I might have been fine, or also not so fine. A lot of things could have gone wrong with my clan, or if I had tried to go to Kirkwall on my own. I'm sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Bull laughs again. "You're fine, you don't ever have to apologize to me." He takes a seat beside a Tevinter man who nods at Merrill with a half smile. Bull gestures to the seat across from him, and she quickly takes it, folding her hands in her lap.

Krem gives Merril a quick look over, and his smile widens. "Another Dalish, huh? Hey, Dalish, you've got a friend!" He calls back to the pale blond elven woman who was playing cards with a dwarf.

She looks up with pleasant surprise and grins at Merrill, rushing over to stand before her and violently shake her hand. Merrill notes the staff on her back, and relief floods through her at the familiarity. "It's nice to meet another one of the people," Dalish says enthusiastically. "When I left my clan to adventure, I thought I'd see more of us than this!" 

"You were thrown out, Dalish," Bull reminded her. "They didn't have room for another mage." 

"I'm not a mage!" Dalish defended. "I just know a few tricks with a bow, that's all." 

Merrill clears her throat sheepishly, avoiding Dalish's eyes. "I'm Merrill, I am... was First of my clan. Until I left. There's no shame in knowing a bit of old magic." 

Dalish was about to argue again that she was NOT a mage, but Krem had stood up by then and taken her by the arm- escorting her back to her seat. The dwarf looks at her warily, his elbows propped up on the table. 

"I'm Rocky," he offered a smile. "Why'd you leave your clan, elf? I hear First is a pretty good gig to have." 

Merrill paused, searching her mind for the right words to say. Oh, if only Varric or Isabela or Hawke were here. "The Keeper and I had... disagreements. It was for the best." 

"Oh, let's cut the dismal talk," Bull calls out, holding up a mug. "We're welcoming our new friend to the Inquisition, after all. C'mon, Grim, get her a drink."

The human man with the strong chin, Grim, grunts and climbs to his feet. He staggers off toward the bar, and returns with a mug of ale for Merrill that she awkwardly holds with two hands. 

"Thank you, Grim," she smiles at him and he gives another grunt in response as he plops back down into his seat. 

"Drink up, Merrill," he says as he takes another long sip from his own mug, wiping the excess from his chin and bottom lip. 

Merrill looks hesitantly down into the liquid, and takes a slow, frightful sip. When she chokes, Bull can only chuckle good-heartedly at her. 

"Now, now, Marigold," Bull scoots his chair closer so that he can reach her. He puts his massive hands over her own, and raises the mug to her lips. "You have to chug it. Chug it like you mean it." 

She follows the instruction without hesitation this time, but with determination. She holds the mug on her own as Bull takes his hands back, and she makes a mess of spilling some of the drink in her lap as she attempts to 'chug' it: but as she pulls her lips away The Chargers break into cheers. She grins a little and wipes her face clean with the back of her hand. That... actually wasn't too bad. The Iron Bull was right. 

"There ya go," Bull gives her shoulder a good proud shake before encouraging her to take another chug. "You're going to fit right in around here." 

After a few drinks too many, Merrill decided to make her way back to the main hall for the night, where Varric planned to show Merrill to her quarters. She thanked Bull for buying the drinks, a hiccup breaking apart her giggles as she unsteadily stood. It took her a minute to find her balance, but by then she'd realized her ball of twine was gone. Her heart sank immediately. 

"Everything alright, Marigold?" Bull asks, looking back up at her. He's drunk, but that doesn't seem to change his behavior very much.

"Yes, I am. Thank you, The Iron Bull," she says quickly, straightening herself and looking with a determined expression toward the door. She would just have to... find her way back on her own? Bull waved her good bye and said he hoped to see her at breakfast. She vowed to be there and strode out in a very ungraceful version of her usual gate. Was she drunk? Was  that why she felt so... warm, silly, and fuzzy? What was Isabela warning her about back in Kirkwall? This wasn't so terrible at all. 

Stumbling around in the darkness, she found a set of stairs that she hoped had been the stairs up to the main hall. Instead, she found herself very lost and very confused on the battlements. The moon did little to illuminate her path, but she could see the glowing white on the mountain tops of the near horizon. It was even more beautiful now than it had been that afternoon. 

The battlements were all connected, right? So if she followed them long enough, she'd be sure to wind up back in the main hall. Or, so she hoped. She turned and stumbled onward, reaching out and using the stone wall as a balance. As the moon seemed to grow brighter, light now brightening her cheeks, she could feel a sudden boldness swelling in her. She imagined the members of her clan in the courtyard, watching her as she clambered around the battlements and waiting for her to do something that would prove her worthiness to them.

"Oh! I can show them a trick," she thought out loud, frantically righting herself. "The Keeper loves it when I do silly tricks." 

She grabs the ledge of the battlement wall, using it to pull herself atop of it. Slowly and shakily, she rose to her feet, holding her arms out at her sides for balance as she stood on the wall like a tight rope walker. She grinned, imagining her clan looking at her with amazement and awe as she walked. She wasn't even using blood magic! They would take her back after this, for sure! 

A misplacement of a foot, and she wobbles. Shrieking a bit too loudly, she rights herself before she has a chance to fall. The clan can't take her back if she falls! She can't mess this up for herself. 

Merrill continues to walk, singing happily to herself as she lazily calculates the placement of each step. _"Elgara vallas, da'len,"_ she cooed, letting her eyes fall closed. _"Melava somniar."_

Suddenly, Merrill's footing is lost again, and in her distraction is unable to regain it. Her leg slides down the side of the wall and she screams, reaching out for something to grab and hold on to. Then, out of nowhere, a warm pair of hands snatches a hold of her arm and swiftly pulls her back over the ledge. 

 _"Dirthara ma,"_ a familar voice swears, panic and frustration evident in his tone. "Would you like to explain to me what exactly you were doing up there?" Solas snapped, Merrill could see the rage in his eyes, glittering under the light of the moon. He was so... beautiful.

"I-... I-" she felt tears beggining to well in her eyes. "I was trying to impress my clan, so that they... so that they would take me back." 

Solas's gaze softened as he looks from Merrill's flushed cheeks to the empty courtyard below, not so much as a wandering scout in sight. "You're drunk, I see," he observed plainly. "Come, you must lie down. I will get you some water." 

He brings the stumbling she-elf back to the tower with him, and forces her to lie down on the velvet red couch at one side of the room. She feels herself start to calm a little as he departs, mindlessly staring upward. What... _was_ she thinking? She could hardly put the pieces together now. All she could think of was Solas as he returned with her water, pulling up a seat beside her and watching with intent as she drank. 

"The Dalish aren't drinkers," Solas noted. "I would not have pegged you for one either." 

Merrill shakes her head weakly. "Never did before today," she admitted. "Oh, I think I understand why my friends warned me about it back in Kirkwall. I should've listened." 

He chuckled below his breath at that. There was Varric's nickname for him... _Chuckles_.

Merrill unsteadily hands the glass back and Solas watches with a keen eye, focus coming to rest on her bare palms. She immediately tucked them safely in her lap- blushing deep red.

"Those scars," Solas began and Merrill felt suddenly overwhelmed with dread. "Are you... a maleficar?"

"I.. a blood mage?" she questioned, the word not managing to turn any gears in her alcohol muddied head. 

"Yes," he said. "Are you?" 

She thinks about this for a long moment, looking at her hands sheepishly. When she opens her mouth to speak, she hiccups, which only makes her blush darker. "I... umn... I _was_. Not anymore, though. Oh, I- I probably shouldnt talk about that.. should I? The Inquisition will throw me out and the people I've saved... they would be left to-" tears welled in her eyes again and she became suddenly encased by fear and grief. Was the alcohol doing this to her? Were drunk people supposed to feel this lonely and sad? 

Solas only frowns slightly, and shakes his head. "I am sure that I needn't lecture you on the dangers of blood magic," he sighed. "However, though I doubt the Inquisitor would use it as a reason to cast you out, your secret is safe with me." 

Merrill looked up at him with wet, pink eyes. "Really?" The poor girl was covered in tears and snot, who in their right mind thought getting her intoxicated was a sensible idea? 

Solas nodded. "Truly. However, should I find you again in a similar state, that would quickly change."

There is a smirk on his face, but even in her condition she could tell that he was serious by the concern in his eyes.

"Oh, you won't, that's for certain," she mummbled, failing to supress a hiccup. "I feel happy and then suddenly I feel sad. I feel more sad than I've ever felt, and my tongue feels all mushy like I'm barely capable of speaking..." An irritated huff, and she clumsily sits up: letting her face fall into her hands. "I'm such a _mess_ , you know?" A hiccup. "Nobody hardly ever wants me, I've been thrown out everywhere I turn. They tossed me out of my clan, they drug me out of Kirkwall, and soon the Inquisition will no longer have need of me and discard me to the streets." Anothef hiccup, and Merrill begins sobbing. "What did I do to deserve all _this?_ I pray, I pray for my forgiveness and the Creators never listen. I never hurt anyone. I always just try to help."

Solas watches her, unsure what to say or how to comfort her. He's never... dealt with anything remotely like this before. "These are baseless thoughts, baseless fears conjured only by your mind," he said softly, wondering whether or not he should reach out to touch her. "The Inquisition would never abandon you. The Herald, Trevelyan, has protected and cared for agents far less deserving, and far less qualified than you." 

Merrill sniffles, wiping her face on her shirt rather sloppily. The other mage reaches out with a hankerchief from his desk, using it to clean her nose and cheeks. She thanked him under her breath, face as red as the cushions she sat on. 

"Thank you, Solas but... I should... really, I should go," she stammered, not looking directly at him. "I need to get to my chambers." 

"Do you know where they are? I should like to make sure you arrive there in one piece, after what I've witnessed." 

"I- uhmn... no," she admitted. 

"Then, stay and sleep here," the apostate said as he rose from his chair. "I can sleep in one of the empty servants chambers down the hall. Every room is never filled." 

"Oh, thank you but I don't want to-" 

"You're too late, the decision is made," he huffed. "Unless you would make another attempt at searching about Skyhold in the dark. Be my guest, but I will not catch you the second time." 

"Why did you?" she asked suddenly. "Catch me?" 

"You are an agent of the Inquisition. Even if you were merely a scout, each and every life in this fortress plays an important role. Regardless of how I feel about you personally, it was the right thing to do." 

"How do you feel about me personally? What do you mean?" she stammered. 

He shook his head, the muscles in his jaw visibly tightening. " _On era'vun,_ Merrill," and with that, he was gone, and the torches that had kept his portion of the tower lit suddenly blew out. 

**Author's Note:**

> The song she's singing is a Dalish lullaby from World Of Thedas Vol. 2, 'Dirthara ma' is a swear-word (it literally means 'May you learn.'), and On era'vun means 'good night' : >


End file.
